


Homecoming

by Kimmimaru



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Gore, Dark, Insanity, M/M, hints of manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 06:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12292815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimmimaru/pseuds/Kimmimaru
Summary: Red. It was all he could see.It was on his hands, it was soaked into his clothes, it was splashed over his face.





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I failed to get out an entry for yesterday so I hope this makes up for it. I was so busy, now I'm beyond tired. Ugh. Please enjoy. I have also used a slightly different format than usual, I hope it adds to the story somewhat.

Red. It was all he could see.

 

It was on his hands, it was soaked into his clothes, it was splashed over his face.

 

He knelt in a puddle of it even as it soaked into the knees of his trousers. He looked down at his hands, breath coming in great, heaving gasps. His mind still couldn't truly process what had happened. All he remembered were the screams.

 

Somewhere nearby he was aware of the handle of a sword, it glinted in the light from a nearby fire. His fingers curled, he remembered the weight of the sword.

 

_...What...what're you doing?_

 

He flinched, the memory tearing into his fuzzy thoughts like a flash of lightning. He bent forward, pressing his forehead into the bloodied concrete. He could taste it; copper and salt. It stung his mouth, his eyes burned. It was everywhere. Why was it everywhere?

 

A shudder passed through him. His stomach twisted. His cheeks were burning now, something was pouring down his face. When had it begun to rain?

 

_Don't...oh gods...no...no...please..._

 

There was a weird noise shattering the silence; it was like the sound of a dying animal, slowly growing louder. It took him too long to realise it was coming from him.

 

His chest was too tight. His body shuddering violently. He looked again at the blood. So, so much blood.

 

_I trusted you._

 

The whine broke through the invisible obstruction in his chest, his eyes moved to the source of all that crimson. He could see a hand, fingers curled and sleeve torn. He could see fragments of clothing, flashes of skin stained red. So much red. It was everywhere. It coated him. A second, itchy, terrible skin. Was that...hair?

 

He rocked back and forth, arms curled tightly around his stomach as he stared mindlessly at the blood. It dripped down his cheeks, catching in the scruff of a beard he had grown in his ten year absence. It burned his eyes. It was on his lips. He moaned. He shivered.

 

There was a golden tuft of hair, he could see it now through a wobbling haze that covered his vision. There beside it was a pair of shattered glasses and a broken dagger. A massive sword stood upright in the ground, flung away when it's owner had-

 

It wasn't real. None of it. It couldn't be. Those screams...where were they coming from? His throat was raw, like someone had tried to shove a dagger down it. Like someone had slit his throat-

 

It was him. The blond. Prompto. He was first. His blade was sharp enough it cut right through his vocal chords. It was like slicing through butter-

 

It wasn't. It wasn't real. None of it. He was dreaming...he had to be.

 

And there was the calls of betrayal. His voice had broken, that smooth accent shattering as his blade drove into his body. Like a puppet with it's strings cut he had fallen to add more blood to the concrete. His oldest friend.

 

No. Nonononononon-

 

That sound was growing louder now, it vibrated through his chest. Something was stuck inside him, dying to get out. Like an explosion. He had to...he had to...

 

Nonononono

 

It wasn't-

 

_How could you..._

 

No. No he was wrong. All wrong. It wasn't-

 

Not his fault. Not possible. He would never-

 

Broken. His body lifeless on the ground, impaled by a lance thrown from his-

 

Hair soaking up the blood. It was red now. Everything was so, so red. Everywhere. Broken. Bruised.

 

It hurts. It hurts ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts

 

It built and built and built until it finally exploded out of his chest. It seared his throat as it came, passing his bloodied lips in a single, heaving breath.

 

He screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed. He screamed until his voice broke, until his mind shattered.

 

Notmyfault

 

no

 

I didn't-couldn't-

 

can't

 

no

 

gods

 

 

ohpleaseohpleaseohplease

 

nononononononono

 

Footsteps. Heavy, steady boots on tarmac. He doesn't look. He knows who it is.

 

Soft laughter, a hand in his hair, stroking like a lover.

 

“ _Good boy_.”

 


End file.
